Sharing the same sort of thoughts as Jim Mackintosh.
Photo ©Stephen McKay
Rowan berries in the snow
Rubies’ gleam no more intense,
Cold pierces to the bone.
The raven spreads frost-stiffened wings,
Black plumes will feel the wind no more,
His hair swept back from snow-white brow.
Red drops, bright berries, ruby lips,
In a dream where passion cools like winter breath,
And happiness drifts and fades, December mist,
She touches with trembling finger,
Her love’s life blood,
And begins a life of winter weeping.